


Wake Up, Sleepyhead

by StorytellerSecrets



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Multi, Nightmares, Other, Out of Character, Panic, Projecting onto characters, Psychological Horror, Sad Ending, Shadow Monsters, Shadows - Freeform, Sleep, Sleep Paralysis, Surreal, The Sleep Paralysis Demon, Vague Fear, Waking Up, Whisper Men, vague horror, venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StorytellerSecrets/pseuds/StorytellerSecrets
Summary: It's not sleeping that he hates. It's not being awake either. It's the moments where he's waking up that really shake Keith to the core.





	Wake Up, Sleepyhead

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy the fic!

He woke up in the middle of the night. Keith tried to open his eyes, but to no avail. Confused, he tried again.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

It wasn’t working.

 

He was fairly certain he was awake. Reasonably, he should be able to open his eyes. Trying again, he re-established that he couldn’t, picking his brain for any possible explanations.

 

A sudden thought occurred. Curiously, he tested the thought, trying to sit up. He couldn’t move, nor could he stop the creeping anxiety that followed such realization.

 

Unable to move, he tried talking. Nothing—he couldn’t even open his mouth. It was as if he had been drugged; almost like he was paralyzed.

 

At this, dread began to slowly pool in his stomach. He felt scared and alone and most terrifyingly, helpless. Keith Kogane didn’t do helpless. He was a Galra, for God’s sake. But he sure didn’t feel like one right now.

 

He felt like a cliche horror movie star. Helpless, victimized, and probably going to die. What was happening to him?

 

Out of nowhere, a white, faceless creature slowly came into being. The creature stalked towards him. But. That shouldn’t be possible. Keith was awake. He was.

 

Against all possibility, the creature was there. And now it was kneeling by his head. Gnarled but refined murmuring came stiltedly from the creature. Not that Keith could hear what it was saying.

 

The anxiety was near-tangible at this point. He could feel it wrapping around his arms and legs, like it was the panic itself that was trapping him in place. With the growing panic, he struggled violently, but he couldn’t move for the life of him.

 

Helplessness and fear radiated off of him in waves as he cried a motionless plea. To the naked eye, Keith was sure he seemed perfectly fine, but he felt as though he was actually dying on the inside.

 

The volume of the murmurs—whispers, Keith corrected himself—was increasing rapidly. Whatever the terrifying creature was actually saying was still lost to Keith, but he didn’t need the exact words. Just the tone and inflection told him he didn’t want anything to do with…whatever it was.

 

Breathing wasn’t difficult—he couldn’t control that, either. Beneath the surface, however, he was hyperventilating and screaming. No one heard him.

 

The whispering was loud—painfully so—and it was only getting louder. Pure helplessness washed over Keith like a Tsunami and—and…he was tired.

 

Resignation was impossible. The panic and the whisper-screams were too much to bear. Keith was going to explode. He was going to die here. The whispering was going to kill him.

 

_ You won’t wake up. I won’t let you. You will stay here. No one will miss you. You can’t leave. You’re never going to leave. You can’t leave you can’t leave you CAN’T LEAVE YOU CAN’T- _

  
  


The whispers themselves made Keith want to cry. Not that he could. The faceless figure was slowly leaning closer and closer to his face, merely centimeters from the tip of his nose.

 

Panic was overwhelming his senses. If he was breathing, he couldn’t tell. The whispers were the only thing louder than the ringing in his ears and the uncomfortable throb of his heartbeat.

 

No matter what happened, it wasn’t going to end well. The creature was actually screaming now, directly on his face, and Keith could feel streams of air smelling like a corpse in summer blast onto his face as the creature breathed. His ears felt broken, the ringing drowned out by the noise.

 

He was going to die.

 

“Keith.” He was shaking—why was he shaking? The whispers were gone, but the overwhelming unease was ever so prominent. Pressure built on his shoulders as he shook harder. Someone was shaking him.

 

At this notion, Keith was internally sobbing in relief. He was going to be saved. A few more moments of gentle shaking, and the pressure lessened.

 

“He must’ve been really tired,” the same voice said softly.

 

“Guess I should just let him sleep.”

 

No.

 

No.

 

Please, no.

 

_ No. _

 

Don’t leave.

 

…please.

 

The whispers were returning.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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